


Worship With Gladness

by TatyanaIvanshov



Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chevalier being supportive af, Crossdressing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sad Philippe, hes such a good boyfriend wtf, shaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:20:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25570468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TatyanaIvanshov/pseuds/TatyanaIvanshov
Summary: Philippe's demeanor has suddenly shifted and the Chevalier knows something's happened. When it finally spills from the Prince, he realizes the situation is direr than he thought.
Relationships: Chevalier de Lorraine/Philippe d'Orléans | Monsieur (Versailles 2015)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	Worship With Gladness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fulyric](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fulyric/gifts).



> The Chevalier is the best supportive boyfriend and we stan.

The Chevalier sat on the bed with a glass of wine swirling around in his hand as he studied the two gowns that were held before him by two of Philippe’s mignons. One was silver, shimmering where the light hit it, and the other was a soft gold with lavender ribbons. Though he adored the gold and lavender and knew Philippe would look stunning in it, he was questioning whether it would be suitable for tonight’s events. Perhaps they should wait and save it for another occasion and make good use of it, maybe at their own parties in Saint-Cloud, when they manage to return.

Just as he was about to choose, he was interrupted by the door that swung open, and in came the Prince. His heart fluttered at the sight of him, as beautiful as a porcelain doll, big dark eyes, and milky pale skin that drove the Chevalier wild. 

“Ah, mignonette! There you are. Come help me choose. Which would you rather wear tonight? Personally, I’m leaning on the silver but I do love the other-” His eyes followed Philippe who began to pull off his rings almost forcefully and lay them on his dressing table. 

“I’m not wearing a gown.” He said, sharp and cold, leaving no room for argument. It is when the Chevalier noticed the Prince’s demeanor and how it had shifted, quite different to the usual, bouncy air which he admired in his lover. He looked at him in confusion but the Prince didn’t bother to explain. “How was your day?”

“No, no.” The Chevalier shook his head and snapped his fingers, the only command the two mignons needed to carry the gowns away and leave the pair alone in their bed-chamber. “Why are you not wearing a gown?” 

“Must I always dress so?” Philippe carried himself to his study where he flipped through files and ledgers, seemingly looking for something but the blonde knew him better than that. It was his way of acting casual as if there was no reason to inquire. 

“Well, no. But you were so excited. You had those dresses specially made for tonight.” 

“And?” 

“And you had them shipped from Paris!” The Chevalier was starting to lose his patience with Prince’s dismissive tone. He loved him more than life itself but he could be infuriating when in such a mood, though Lorraine knew well enough it was all sharp, dismissive words in an attempt to cover up emotion. Real emotion that the Prince never had an issue with showing the Chevalier before.

“I changed my mind.” He shook his coat down his arms and draped it over the backrest of a chair before taking a seat at it and continuing to flip through the stacks. His lover stood with widened eyes and furrowed eyebrows, watching him like a hawk. He could not believe his ears. 

“Where were you just now?” Lorraine attempted to remain as blasé as possible, seemingly only making casual conversation. Instead of going straight for the kill and simply asking him what was wrong, the Chevalier, knowing better, beat around the bush. 

“Council meeting.” He simply said, distracted. 

“With Louis?” 

“He is the King.” Philippe mocked. 

“Uhm… interesting. I saw Louvois in the halls a minute ago. He wasn’t there?” The Chevalier acted as nonchalant as Philippe, even leaning back on the pillows to watch his lover scribble on a page. 

“He was. He was dismissed before I.” 

“Cassel too?” 

“Could you stop asking questions?” Philippe snapped, his eyes still not meeting his lovers’. It was all the Chevalier needed to know. Philippe had been alone with the King. This was Louis’ fault and it made Lorraine’s blood boil though he kept it cool on the outside. He rolled off the bed and walked over to where Philippe sat, hunched over his study. Across from him, the Chevalier rested his hands on the wooden desk and leaned forward on them, capturing Philippe’s attention and waited for an explanation but it didn’t come. Philippe didn’t even look at him. 

“What did Louis tell you?” The Chevalier’s soft voice seemed to crack him. His gaze flickered around and the blonde knew he was holding back tears from the way his fingers gripped on the quill and he pursed his lips together. 

“Matters of state.” His trembling voice fooled no one. “None of your concern.” He tried to go back to scribbling but the quill was out of ink. He pressed it harder onto the page and it did not do much but he continued until he was merely scratching.

“Philippe.” The Chevalier whispered but the Prince did not mind it. He continued to forcefully scratch the paper with the tip of the quill that has begun to bend. “Philippe.” He spoke again, more sternly. The same reaction invoked. “Philippe!” 

“What?” Once again, he snapped, slamming the quill down, pushing himself to his feet so the chair flew back when the back of his legs hit it, and meeting Lorraine’s eyes. His own were teary and frustrated, and the blonde had to swallow back his own emotions just to be able to look at them without scooping his lover in his arms to reverse all damage done. God, how he wanted to. 

“Speak to me.” The Chevalier spoke softly. “What has Louis done?” 

Philippe started for a bit, taking in his words and debating his response or perhaps if he should respond at all. When he broke the gaze, he found the chair behind him and went to sit, but not as he usually would. His back was slouched and he held his arms close to his body, tucking his hands between his thighs with a lowered head. The Chevalier felt his heart break. This wasn’t the Prince he fell in love with. Or rather, he was exactly the Prince he fell in love with. Broken and belittled, until he saw no worth in himself. But now, that had changed, despite times like this when he’d recoil back into himself, in a little shell that not even the Chevalier was allowed to penetrate. But he did anyway. 

Lorraine could not stand the distance. He marched over and kneeled between Philippe’s legs, spreading them open despite resistance from the Prince. His hands found his thighs and they caressed before reaching up to Philippe’s face where they brushed away the out-of-place curls and soothed his skin. 

“Speak to me, my love.” The Chevalier whispered, finding Philippe’s eyes and watching his own despair crumple him.

“Just the usual. Nothing new. I wish to fight but he won’t let me.” Philippe hid the truth and that much was clear to the Chevalier. If it truly was just the usual, his lover would be angry, not hurt, especially not to the point where he’d refuse a gown. On the contrary, he’d pick the most extravagant one simply to piss the King off. 

“The truth, Philippe.” Lorraine let his hands drop and encircle Philippe’s waist as he looked up at the melancholic features. 

“Why do you want me in a gown so bad?” He asked, defeated, and beaten. 

“Because it’s what you want. And because you look stunning in them.” The blonde would not help the way his lips twitched into a smile and Philippe almost returned it, but his sadness seemed to weigh heavier.

“You do not think I look like a woman?” Philippe tilted his head to the side. 

“Is that not what you want? To look like a woman?” The Chevalier questioned, unable to understand what Philippe was getting at. 

“Well… yes. I guess. I don’t know. Does that not repel you?”

“Mignonette, you forget that I do not share your aversion to women.” He chuckled but it was cut short when he noticed Philippe’s features didn’t look any less broken than they did before. “What did Louis say?” He looked up at him through blonde lashes, urging him to speak. 

“I told you-” 

“You lied.” 

“I simply do not wish to wear a gown-” 

“You lie again. So, I ask you again- what did Louis say?” Lorraine held his gaze with intensity that cracked Philippe who felt tears trickle down his cheeks. Silence sat between them as the Chevalier gave him the time he needed to speak up.

“He… uhm.” Philippe swallowed. “He told me not to wear a dress because he wants to impress the English ambassador. He said I am… I am a shame to the family.” His chin wobbled and the Chevalier felt a tightness in his chest. 

“What else?” It was clear to him this was not all.

“I commented on looking beautiful in them and he said I don’t. He said I look ungodly and abhorrent.” The Prince sobbed, allowing tears to freely spill as he curled further into himself. The Chevalier watched, just as pained. “I said you like it and that’s enough and he laughed and said you were with me because I was a man and if you wanted a woman, you’d get one. I-” He choked on his own words and his sobs only grew. 

Lorraine couldn’t help it. Normally he’d let the Prince tell him everything there was to tell before giving him such support as he found Philippe spoke easier when given the space but this time, the Chevalier couldn’t help wrapping his arms around him and cradling him into his body, allowing Philippe to weep in his shoulder as his legs wrapped tighter under the Chevalier’s arms. 

“My love.” He whispered as he continued to stroke his hair as he cried. 

“He’s done this before.” Philippe tried to speak through his tears. “When we were younger, he’d tell me I wasn’t a real man. Even as kids. B-but he’d also say I’d never look like a real woman. He said my shoulders were too broad and-” He choked. “And my waist wasn't small enough.” Philippe sniffled, his face still buried in Lorraine’s neck. “To stop me from wearing a dress. It worked… for a while. Until…” His arms tightened around the Chevalier in a protective manner. 

Until you. 

“The rat bastard.” Lorraine’s lips pressed firm kisses against his lover’s hair as a string of curses ran through his mind. “Mignonette, look at me.” He softly said, cupping the Prince’s cheeks when he retreated to look at him, eyes bloodshot, with his nose coming at a reddened tip and cheeks that flushed pink. “I don’t love you for what’s between your legs, you should know that.”

“I-I do…” Philippe once more, fooled no one. “I just…” 

“Or what you wear. I love you naked, just as I love you in a gown, or in breeches, or in a nightgown, I love you. Because you, my love, are God’s finest creation.” Lorraine pressed his lips against Philippe’s forehead. “There is no painter worthy enough in this world to capture your beauty.” They traveled to his cheeks. “No sculptor.” To his other cheek. “And certainly not your brother.” A peck on his nose. “Your beauty deserves to be decorated as you wish. If gowns are what you wish, I’ll be by your side.” Philippe sniffled, swallowing back.

“You like me in a gown?” He asked in a small, shaking voice as if Lorraine had never told him such a thing before. 

“There is nothing more invigorating than watching you flourish, mignonette. Which, sadly, is exactly what Louis doesn’t want. You flourish, you win. He knows your weakest spots and uses them. Too bad so do I.” The Chevalier smiles and Philippe mimicked for even just a single second. 

“Why?” Philippe muttered as Lorraine felt his thumb trace the blonde’s neck. “Why does he wish to cause me such pain?” 

“Truthfully, I don’t know, darling. I don’t. Perhaps more than one reason. For one, he’s jealous. He and the rest of court are. Look at you. How can they not be? Whereas the only ones jealous of his face are the chamber pots.” He had Philippe huff out a coarse laugh through tears. 

“Do you think he loves me?” The Prince’s voice was miniature, as if the question would earn him a beating that he was prepared for. 

“Perhaps. In his own way. But it doesn’t matter. You know who does love you?” 

“The only person that matters.” Philippe smiled as his hands cupped the Chevalier’s cheeks. 

“Well, I was going to say your children. But me too.” He reached forward and brushed his thumb over the wet cheeks, wiping away the salty tears that he could still taste on his lips from the previous kisses. Philippe chuckled, sadness still evidently lingering. “Would you do something for me?” Philippe nodded. “Try on the dress. You don’t need to wear it tonight, or even outside of this room. Just try it on for me. I’ve been looking forward to it, it’s quite a disappointment I won’t get to see you in it.” He prayed for an affirmative answer and he got it when Philippe- hesitantly- nodded again.

“Alright. Just for you.” 

Lorraine smiled and pressed his lips against the Prince’s forehead. 

***

He waited, laying on the bed and flipping through the pages of a book but he found himself losing concentration every few lines, his mind wandering to his lover. Putting on a gown properly was a lot of work, he knew that, but as he waited for the Prince to return from the connected rooms, it felt like forever. He knew Philippe would prefer the lavender so that is which he had him wear and when the door creaked open, he was not disappointed. 

His eyes fell on his lover, the moonlight skin only accentuated against the unsaturated warmth of the lavender, only making way for the gold accents to shine. He had clipped his hair back in a simple manner yet he still managed to look as if he was fully done up. There was little product on his skin except for a deep rouge that also stuck out against the muted tones around his delightful lips.

The Chevalier fell in love again.

A wide smile stretched across his lips as he saw the Prince pad closer to the bed, hands clasped together in front of himself and shoulders still slumped but a timid smile kept at his lips. 

“Oh, dear God, I have seen heaven.” Lorraine’s mouth fell open, causing Philippe to laugh and shake his head. 

“Please.” He huffed. 

The Chevalier pushed himself off the bed and hopped over, taking Philippe’s hands and holding his arms out to inspect the rest of the outfit.

“Look at you!” Philippe continued to giggle, a tint of pink reaching his cheeks. “Who on earth is this beautiful? Huh? I’m sure you can’t even find such beauty in heaven. The Gods are weeping at the sight of you, mignonette.” He walked around him as the Prince bit his lips in an attempt to restrain the large grin. “Weeping, I tell you.” 

“Stop it!” He pulled his hands away to cross his arms over his chest. 

“Do a little spin for me.” Lorraine requested, knowing Philippe wouldn’t turn him down. He was about to object but didn’t and, though hesitant, he obeyed. He twirled, his shoulders straightening and his posture back to his usual, the air around him like that of a cool summer’s day, delightful in every way one could be. “My God, the most beautiful being in all of France. 

“Stop it.” Philippe threw his head back with a giggle, hiding his flushed cheeks. Lorraine scooped him up in his arms from behind and raised Philippe’s hand to his lips, rocking them side to side. He trailed his kisses up to his neck and cheeks and the Prince giggled the whole time. 

“And you are all mine? All,” He tucked a kiss behind his ear. “Mine. What have I done to deserve you?” 

“Ma moitié,” Philippe bit his lip with a chuckle, kissing back at the Chevalier’s cheek and then wiping away the red lip stain left on his skin. He allowed Lorraine to lead him forward towards the mirror as he remained behind him, his arms encircling his lover, and his cheek pressed against the Prince’s temples. 

“Look. Look at that. Even the mirror can’t reflect how beautiful you are.” Lorraine spoke in his ear but Philippe wouldn’t stop turning to gaze back at him. “I said look. Look at yourself, mignonette.” Philippe’s eyes found his lover’s in the mirror. “What do you see?” 

“Me and you.” He simply answered. The Chevalier shook his head in disbelief, laughing. 

“What do you see?” He repeated. 

“My favorite human being.” Philippe tipped his head to lean back on the Chevalier who held him. 

“And?” 

“And a woman.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Mhm.” 

“And what is she wearing?” 

“A beautiful dress that brings out her eyes.” 

“Indeed it does.” Lorraine placed a kiss on his hair. “Is she pretty?” 

“You seem to think so.” He answered, trying to hold back giggled. 

“I do.” Lorraine’s eyes held adoration. “You know what I see?” Philippe shook his head “I see someone confident. And happy.” 

“Well, that part is your fault.” He bit his lips as the Chevalier laughed.

“Oh, forgive me. How dare I wish to see the brightest smile in all of France? From the brightest star in the sky. My little sliver of heaven.” Lorraine laid kisses all over his neck and shoulder as Philippe tipped his head to the side, instinctively to give him access to every bit of himself. “I bet Maintenon doesn’t look this beautiful for Louis and the envy eats him up.” He scrunched his nose as he watched Philippe laugh through the mirror. 

“He has been looking awfully green lately.” The Prince joked, earning a laugh from Lorraine. Their giggles settled, Philippe shut his eyes and let himself be consumed by the Chevalier’s lips that pressed wee kisses all over his skin, so small and tender, he thought his heart might just burst. “You having fun there?” The Chevalier groaned in pleasure. “You sure love this, don’t you.” 

“They worship God, I worship you, my love.” Lorraine ran his nose down the length of his neck, taking in his scent in all its glory. 

“Blasphemy!” Philippe whispered, faking outrage.

“Worship in spirit and truth.” His breath fanned the Prince’s ear as he quoted. “Worship with gladness.” 

“Worship the Lord with gladness.” Philippe corrected. 

“Alright, my lord.” He nuzzled his face in his shoulder. “I shall bow in worship, kneel before my lord.” The Chevalier quoted once more.

“Not that way!” The raven-haired man threw his head back with a laugh before turning around so they were face to face and slithering his arms around the blonde’s waist. 

“God, I wish I could dance with you while you are dressed like this. Too bad we don’t have any music.” Lorraine’s kisses continued on his face, as feathery as the air itself. Philippe thought for a moment and looked up at his lover through thick, dark lashes, reluctance in his tone. 

“Perhaps, if you’d be up for it, we could, maybe, possibly dance tonight? At the entertainment?” The Prince smiled when he saw the Chevalier’s gleaming grin. 

“I’ll be dancing with the most beautiful woman in the room. And then the gardens will be jealous of Louis.” Lorraine referenced Philippe’s earlier joke. “But the gardens can have their sun. I have my moon.” 

The Chevalier claimed the Prince’s lips and they kissed, pouring their heart and soul and every bit of love into it as their bodies pressed together, holding one another as close as they could 

“Thank you,” Philippe whispered into his lover’s mouth. The Chevalier responded by deepening the kiss, more in love with his Prince than he’d ever been and in a few hours, he knew the feeling that surged through him now would be dwarfed by what he would feel then, for his love only grew, every moment of every day, it morphed into adoration like no other and neither ever wanted it to end. 

They would never let it.


End file.
